


Say You Understand

by transcryptidone



Category: Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), The Path (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Angst, Birth, Birth complications, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, Mentions of alcoholism, Mpreg, family trauma, no death though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:54:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28927656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transcryptidone/pseuds/transcryptidone
Summary: "In Meyerism, we don’t build cathedrals or huge megachurches. We don’t create monuments to flex wealth and power. Our great edifice, the roof under which we stand, isfamily. The glint of light off jewels and gold isnothingcompared to the Light that we can feel when we are united as a family."Pictures of happy families project behind him – some families from within the Movement like Sarah’s and others simply are perfect, visual examples of the idyllic happy family. The projection is so well choreographed that the photos will click by without the need for his active command."I’m sure you’ve heard that all too many times from Sarah and me. It’s just about our favorite thing to talk about, especially these days.”
Relationships: Galen Erso/Cal Roberts
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Say You Understand

**Author's Note:**

> This one can get heavy, so please check the tags.

The lights are off and everyone is settling into their seats for the Gathering as he steps onto the stage. The projector is on and _whirring._ It's the only thing that illuminates the room with everything else turned off. Most of the time, Cal would say he is most comfortable in front of a crowd — in front of his fellow Meyerists, in particular. It’s where he can don the role he has trained for. He can use everything he has learned and been taught and show _that_ to the world, that best version of himself.  
  
He clears his throat assertively – but not _aggressively_ – to get everyone’s attention. He makes sure to speak loud and clear to the whole room. “In Meyerism, we don’t build cathedrals or huge megachurches. We don’t create monuments to flex wealth and power,” he starts. “Our great edifice, the roof under which we stand, is family. The glint of light off jewels and gold is _nothing_ compared to the Light that we can _feel_ when we are united as a _family_.”  
  
Pictures of happy families project behind him – some families from within the Movement like Sarah’s and others simply are perfect, visual examples of the idyllic happy family. The projection is so well choreographed that the photos will click by without the need for his active command.  
  
“I’m sure you’ve heard that all too many times from Sarah and me. It’s just about our favorite thing to talk about, especially these days,” he says with a chuckle. He chuckles so they will chuckle and they do.  
  
_Stay true to your message. Be positive. Relate to your audience.  
_

* * *

  
He wasn’t supposed to be doing intakes anymore. He wasn’t supposed to _have to_ when he had plenty of _other things_ to worry about. Plenty. With Steve, the father of their Movement, the Guardian of the Light, sick and dying – and by _dying_ effectively shattering many long-cherished illusions – Cal had more things than ever to stay on top of. There were decisions to be made, secrets to be kept, and lies to conjure out of thin air. This left him with little time for something so drawn-out and regimented as the intake session.  
  
But Sarah and Eddie were having problems, which apparently gave her little time for intakes either, and Cal was left to make sure things kept running, even if that meant doing any and every task under the sun.  
  
He switched on the recording device and watched the tapes turn out of the corner of his eye as he positioned the microphone a little better. His clipboard had already been prepared with the questions, though he could remember the process so well and so thoroughly that he hardly needed the reminder.  
  
The doorknob clicked as the newest Possible was shown into the room. Cal didn’t look up – didn’t have to. Their community was a well-oiled machine at least in that way. The door closed again and the 1R behind it knew to carry on with their day as the man sat down across from Cal.  
  
The man had the scruffy look of stubble that was as gray as the hair that had grown down around his face and near his shoulders. However, he’d looked aged by experiences perhaps a little more than by years. It was there in the look in his eyes and the solemnity to how he held his mouth. It was there in how that showed he’d become much more accustomed to frowning than smiling. Cal had seen that look on many who came to the Movement. He’d seen that look on _himself_ in the mirror.  
  
“What’s your name?” Cal started. Standard first question.  
  
“Galen,” the man answered, barely louder than a whisper. “Galen Erso.”  
  
Cal had scribbled the name down onto the paper like he would any other. He’d given a tight smile as he’d said, “Welcome, Galen.”  
  
“Thank you,” Galen answered, not looking like he felt any more welcome than before.  
  
“Are you married?” Cal continued.  
  
“Widowed,” he answered quickly as though to get it out faster, but it was not so rushed that it lacked reverence.  
  
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Cal said as he’d set aside his pencil. He could feel the oncoming unburdening like a freight train. The blare of pain and Damage signaled its arrival and he never liked to be looking at his clipboard when it came. “Any children?”  
  
Galen took a deep breath that filled his chest. “I had a daughter,” he answered as he sighed and deflated. Neither the move nor the sound was dramatic, but the significance could still be felt loud and clear. “She was killed.”  
  
Cal’s hand moved to rest over Galen’s like it was nothing. But, while it was true that he was no stranger to a companionable touch to the shoulder, as soon as their hands touched, he realized he’d acted on a different impulse. He tried not to flinch with the realization – that would be too obvious – instead he’d curled his hand tighter to make it seem like he’d always meant to do it.  
  
“It might help if you talked about it,” Cal encouraged and he was glad when his voice managed to stay relatively even. “It helps to be open and honest about our Damage.”  
  
“I’m not sure I could,” Galen said. He didn’t look at their hands or even seem to acknowledge it. He stayed steady and still as if frozen in place. “I learned to lie, to play the part of another man for many years.”  
  
Cal had suppressed a wince – not at Galen’s answer, not at all – but how he could feel his own hand start to tremble at the mention of _lying_ and _playing someone else’s part_. He’d tried to not let his inhale be too jarring or too loud as he did his best to quell how his nerves had started to go haywire. As the air filled his chest, he’d reminded himself he was a 10R.  
  
“It’s okay if it feels so _uncomfortable_ that it seems _impossible_. There will be many opportunities to practice and get used to talking about the things that have given you great pain,” Cal reassured as he knew he should. “In Meyerism, we believe that unburdening can bring our Damage to the surface so that others might help us to resolve that Damage and lift each other closer to the Light.”  
  
Galen had shifted in his seat, which shifted his hand in Cal’s – though not _away_. With the turn of his hand, Galen made space and with the shift of Cal’s fingers, their hands were curled more tightly together.  
  
“I was tasked to work on a weapon. Something never seen or done before, something so powerful that it could effectively make it seem as though many people and places had never existed in the first place,” Galen explained as he stared at the wall but seemed to really be seeing something far away. “I made it while thinking I was protecting my daughter and she died doing what I couldn’t.”  
  
The shimmering of tears in Galen’s eyes had Cal adding a second hand with the first, curling and cradling Galen’s hand between them. “I can feel your remorse, your guilt, your _regret_ ,” Cal assured him and he _did_. He could feel how Galen’s pain weighted the air like smoke or dense fog. Cal had closed his eyes to brace himself from it – from how it reminded him of his own. “I feel how you can’t forgive yourself, how you wish you would have died instead.”  
  
_“Yes,”_ Galen stated and Cal could _hear_ the tears in his voice. “Though she is dead, my love has never faded. And though I don’t dare hope for too much, I’ve found myself distraught that there’s no hope for forgiveness.”  
  
“You were a good father,” Cal told him and he’d known it was true. No matter what other judgment might come with discussions of weapons, destruction, and death, Galen still also defined himself by his devotion to his daughter and that was where Cal found the Light. “I can feel that too alongside your love for her. Just like I can feel the Light in you even if you might feel at your darkest.”  
  
Galen’s eyes finally looked at Cal and gave him the feeling of being in the present. “I wish I could believe you were right.”  
  
“Once you start to _know_ The Ladder, all the pain, all the horrible things that happened, they’re gonna _disappear_ ,” Cal said. It was something he said often thinking it might bring about a bit of hope and wishing if he said it _often enough_ , he would feel that hope too.  
  
“Maybe someday I might believe that. But not now,” Galen answered – and, well, _fair enough_.  
  
Cal’s lips twitched towards a smile – a _real_ one. “I’m going to ask you the most important question we have and I want you to try to answer it honestly: Why are you here?”  
  
Galen took a deep breath and took a moment to consider. Cal could feel just a little bit of the fog lifting as Galen settled and declared, “I want _peace_.”  
  


* * *

  
“But _why_ is family _in particular_ so important to us? _Why_ do we yammer on about it all the time?” Cal asks and again is awarded with another round of chuckles at his self-deprecation.  
  
_Don’t forget to smile.  
_  
Cal smiles with them and waits for the laughter to quiet before he continues. Another couple of pictures click by behind him in the meantime. “Why did our Guardian of the Light, our Doctor Steven Meyer, identify the _family_ as the foundation of our faith when we might _think_ we should value the _individual_?”  
_  
However, studies show that people don’t react well to men who smile too much.  
  
_Cal shifts his expression to something contemplative and thoughtful as he shifts on his feet. “We recognize that the great triumphs of the centuries were achieved by the idealism of _individuals_ , but we don’t _stop_ there,” he emphasizes with precise, pointed gestures of his hands.  
  
There is a smattering of _yeahs_ and a few hums of approval from the crowd. “We _start_ one soul at a time,” he continues once the noise dies down again. “Then someone will reach out to you or you’ll reach out to them and you will have started to transform our broken, broken world into a place that is whole again.”  
_  
But a well-placed smile can be just what you need to seal the deal._  
  


* * *

  
He’d thought about Galen from time to time after their initial conversation. It wasn’t an overall frequent thought. He didn’t have many thoughts to spare. But when he did, he found himself repeating the words in his head and rethinking the conversation. It wasn’t that he did anything _wrong_ , he didn’t think. For once, he wasn’t critiquing or instructing himself on how to do better next time. Instead, he found himself thinking fondly of it and feeling that it had gone _pretty well_.   
  
It was a special coincidence that he happened to be thinking of Galen just as he walked by him. Cal spotted him in the garden with some of the other novices. He was tending to the plants with well-practiced movements and care. Cal paused to watch as his hands pruned away dead leaves so that the rest of the plant might thrive.  
  
“How are you, Galen?” Cal found himself asking when he realized he’d lingered too long.  
  
Galen hummed and looked up at him. Though the glare of the sun could very easily be in his eyes, he didn’t raise a hand to hide away in some self-made shade. “Just enjoying some gardening."  
  
“Well, you’re a natural,” Cal told him.  
  
“I was a farmer for a time,” Galen said and Cal could tell there was plenty of meaning held in those simple words.  
  
“Lucky us.”  
  
Galen’s eyes trailed downwards and, just when Cal might flush from the attention, Galen’s eyes blinked over to the right. His gaze lingered as his brow furrowed. “What’s that?”  
  
“Oh,” Cal remarked, tilting the papers in his hand upwards so he could look at the numbers, words, and shapes scribbled on them. “Just stuff about our rainwater harvesting and solar power systems. We try to capture natural resources to sustain our beautiful campus. It’s important to us to care for the planet. Always pursuing a new generation in sustainable technology,” Cal explained and he paused to rub at his forehead as he suddenly felt exhausted by the thought of what was on his agenda for the rest of the day. He could feel his smile come across too much like a wince as he said, “Sometimes gives me a bit of a headache to try to figure out, but I manage.”  
  
“I could look at it,” Galen offered.  
  
“I don’t—" Cal started, then he paused – and then he hesitated _because_ he’d hesitated. Steve saw a gift in Cal when he was doing 2R: the gift of identifying potential in others. Jeremiah was a great lawyer and Cal knew that. Galen was a great scientist; Cal knew that too. Plus, dorm renovations and solar panels hardly qualified as UR secrets. There was potential to be utilized and a potential joy to be gained from giving what could be given. But, even knowing this, something made him _hesitate_.  
  
Galen interrupted Cal’s internal self-analysis when he’d set aside his tools and risen to his feet. “A long time ago, I dreamt of energy enhancement. I sought to examine the very structures of existence to see if I could unlock unlimited energy and even the divide between the _have's_ and _have not's_ ,” Galen explained. “I would like to be given another opportunity to use my knowledge for something _good_.”  
  
Cal smiled and touched a hand to Galen’s shoulder – once again it could be casual and companionable, but doesn’t _quite_ feel that way. “You’re a man of many talents,” Cal admired. He’d nodded with his head and gestured his hand towards his office. “Walk with me.”  
  
His office had been only a little ways off and they’d filled the time with discussions of the garden and The Garden – how they could be cultivated and grow enough for everyone. When they took seats next to each other on the couch and Cal sat forward to set the various papers on the coffee table, he wished he didn’t have to interrupt the flow.  
  
“We’re right in the middle of a few different projects,” he explained reluctantly. “Some of them I think I already have figured out. Others I’m not sure where to start. Steve has taught me many things and has a great many talents, but we each have our own strengths and purposes and his is to be the Guardian of the Light, not an engineer.”  
  
“Of course,” Galen reassured as he reached towards the papers and started to scan the pages. His eyes flew over a few in no time and he looked back at Cal with a small smile as he said, “I’d like to use the gift of my education wisely.”  
  
Cal had smiled back and realized a few times as they worked that he was smiling without having to intend to. He found himself reflexively wincing when he realized it but then would discover another smile soon thereafter. It was almost a shame that they finished the work so quickly. Galen knew what to make of the inspector’s report and knew how to determine whether the roofs for the dorm project could be finished before it rained. He even had time to spare to make suggestions Cal hadn’t had time to think of to improve their sources of energy and utilization of solar power.  
  
“I feel lucky that I ran into you,” Cal said as he tided the papers back into folders. He chuckled as he added, “I’ll freely admit I’m out of my depth with this.”  
  
“You seem very capable,” Galen stated. The rumble of his voice made it sound so soft and almost unquestionable. “You’re a man of many talents yourself.”  
  
“Gotta keep the train running,” Cal deflected as he leaned back against the couch and rubbed his hands down the top of his legs to press the heels of his palms against the tensed muscle. “When I tell Steve about the work being done here, Light _shines_ in his eyes. Can’t let the Light fade because I was slacking off while he’s away.”  
  
It was Galen’s hand that time that took hold of Cal’s and curled his hand within careful fingers. “I appreciate that you have helped me to see what’s it’s like to _really_ be immersed in my work.”  
  
Cal found himself smiling again and a tremor travelled his nerves – but not necessarily a _bad_ one. “I appreciate that you made it feel less like work.”  
  
That Galen leaned in first was how Cal remembered it. Maybe it didn’t matter though, because he leaned in too. The press of their lips together amplified the tremor that traveled his nerves into a sort of anticipatory vibration. It was a hum under his skin that harmonized with the hum of Galen’s voice as he pressed in closer. Cal found himself leaning deeper into the resonance and calm Galen had to offer.  
  
“You’re very handsome,” Cal sighed deeply as he pulled in the breaths that seemed stolen from his lungs. “Very.”  
  
Galen smiled at him as his clever, seemingly all-knowing eyes poured over every detail of Cal’s face. “You’re sweeter than you know,” he observed just before he brought their lips back together.  
  
Cal’s moan stuttered as Galen pressed his hands along the side of his ribcage and along his back. Cal grit his teeth with how much he _wanted_. He wanted hands everywhere – his hands on Galen and Galen’s hands on him – and he wanted the empty cavernous space that seems to occupy his heart to not feel quite so lonely. The stuttering of his moans turned into pants of breath that came quick enough to sound panicked.  
  
“Cal?” Galen said carefully.  
  
“I definitely want you,” Cal admitted though he felt as though his whole body might shake. He closed his eyes, scrunched his brow, and licked his lips as he said, “I just, um, get this feeling that this is much bigger than just right now.”  
  
“The alignment of the cosmos.”  
  
Cal’s laugh came out as a huff. His instruction was light-hearted as he said, “We don’t believe in that.”  
  
Galen laughed with him. “You see the Light in me as I see the Light in you,” Galen observed. His voice was gruff with all that he held within him. “What does the Light tell you to do?”  
  
Cal paused and tried to tune into the part of him that could offer relief and some potential for peace. Therein he found an absence of fear, if only for a moment. Worries about consequences and questions of what he did or did not deserve were waiting in the wings to take over as they always were. But he could manage to have some clarity in the Truth while they still remained on the sidelines.  
  
It was Cal who resumed the kiss that time. He tried to keep his grip on the Light as tight as his grip in the fabric of Galen’s shirt – one of the Meyerist t-shirts, a green one. He gripped it as he delved deeper and deeper and let Galen’s fingers occupy themselves with undoing Cal’s buttons. Cal only relinquished his hold on the thin t-shirt in order to take it _off_.  
  
They were perfectly bare to each other, perfectly unhidden from each other’s eyes. They could see each other anew and touch everything they could see. With Galen laid on top of him, Cal felt how the stuttered inhales of his breath knocked their chests together as if their hearts strove to beat against each other through the cages of their ribs. As Galen pushed in deep, Cal felt how he made space for him with his body and felt his own brokenness. He sobbed it into a kiss at Galen’s mouth that was tinged with both pleasure and pain.  
  
It almost unsettled Cal how quickly his arousal would build. It seemed to happen so quickly that Cal struggled to catch up enough to catch his breath. He welcomed the pleasure as much as he feared it and it was only with the tenderness of Galen’s touch that the pleasure ultimately won out. All of Cal’s muscles tensed as he came otherwise untouched and a tear slipped from the corners of his eyes as he clenched his jaw. His knees locked around Galen’s hips, desperate to make sure he wouldn't go away.  
  
Galen’s pleasure had peaked not long after. His hips stilled and his bodyweight held Cal against the cushion of the couch. The tremor of Galen’s muscles matched Cal’s as their breaths did their best to catch up.  
  
_“Magnificent,_ ” Cal gasped. “You are magnificent.”  
  
Then he laughed at himself for his cliché, pleasured haze. That laughter faltered as Galen’s laugh sent a gust of air across sweat-slicked skin. Cal shivered as the sensation traveled his spine. He arched his back and shifted his hips as it pooled in his belly.  
  
His fingers interlaced into the hair damp with sweat at the nape of Galen’s neck as he mused, “I think that this was meant to be.”  
  


* * *

  
_Now, let’s talk about non-verbal techniques we can use to further enhance this connection.  
_  
“The question is how do we understand what it means to be _healed_ by our family if so many of us experience Damage that we associate with family itself?” Cal continues. The pictures behind him start to tell a different story. The images are of children, dirty, abandoned, and hungry; parents arguing; people crying out in grief and mourning with tears glistening on their face.   
  
_Did you know you can use your eyes to speak volumes? Try it. Use your eyes to convey that you are serious.  
_  
Cal casts his eyes around the room. Even in the dark, he can see how his community shakes their heads solemnly, shift in their seats in discomfort, and frown. He can see disapproval amongst the families and the individuals within those families that he knows are both broken and healing. He squints his eyes slightly to convey his understanding and somber sympathy.  
  
“Some of us have family who abandoned us,” he continues. “Some have family that needed to be left behind. Some of us have family we lost.”  
  
His eyes do not scan equally and aimlessly around the room this time. Rather, he looks specifically at the man sitting front row and center. Galen looks back at him unflinchingly, not afraid of being put on the spot in front of the class, so to speak, and especially not afraid of Cal’s attention. _  
  
Use your eyes to communicate a sea of empathy.  
_  


* * *

  
Cal’s responsibilities continued even with Galen to take on some of the burden. He delegated to Galen often enough for him to come and go from Cal’s office as he pleased, whether for professional or _personal_ reasons. Cal encouraged him to pursue 1R both because Galen deserved it and because it would deter any unneeded gossip. He wasn’t afraid of questions or honesty per se – at least not about _that_ – but when he was being honest with himself, Cal dreaded the talk that could come after all was said and done.  
  
Cal poured over papers in the dark of night, only interrupted by the light of one solitary lamp. He was exhausted. No longer being allowed coffee and feeling more easily tired out than ever was a bad combination when he had no one he could fully lean on. Those who knew of Steve’s illness had no interest in offering support and those who didn’t know never could. Not to mention, he had _yet another_ secret that only he could know anything about.  
  
Galen entered his office as Cal studied his stack of papers to see just how many he still had left. Cal sighed when he saw that it was the same number as the last time he checked.  
  
“I learned how to Connect today,” Galen announced as he hovered by the corner of the desk.  
  
“Did you?” Cal replied distractedly. He didn’t look up from the words even as they seemed to blur on the page.  
  
Galen sat leaning against the edge of the desk right to Cal’s right. “I thought you might help me practice.”  
  
Cal leaned back in his chair and rubbed his fingers over his tired eyes. “I’m, um, kind of busy.”  
  
“Cal,” Galen remarked as he took hold of one of Cal’s wrists and pulled his hand away from so cruelly pressing against his eyes. He waited until Cal was looking at him to say, “I would like it very much.”  
  
“Uh,” Cal started and faltered. There was part of him that remembered that what he lacked was time and what he had too much of was many secrets. This part of him warred with another part of himself that wished that wasn't the case. The part that won out ultimately was the part of him that felt most comfortable when he was instructing. “You know what? Sure.”  
  
Cal stood up from his chair no matter how his muscles and bones seemed to complain. He lifted one of the light wooden chairs at the center of the room and sets it to the side, while Galen moved the other to create a space on the floor. They toed off their shoes before they sat and Galen scooted himself closer to bring his legs up and over Cal’s hips and wrap his hands around and against his lower back. Cal did his part by settling his hands against Galen’s waist and they both leaned back as soon as they had a firm hold on each other.   
  
Cal closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he felt himself held by Galen and holding him. He tipped his head back and, once he truly felt counterbalanced, he encouraged, “Go ahead.”  
  
“Can you feel my energy?” Galen asked.  
  
“Yes,” Cal sighed and he could.  
  
Galen’s energy was a calm one. That had been important, increasingly so as they have spent time together. But Galen’s energy was also still a morose one. For all that Cal’s Damage can make him panicked, frantic, and send him into a frenzy that was torn between flee and _fight_ , Galen’s Damage made him retreat further and further until it became almost eerie how he could express feeling things that he often by habit didn’t risk showing.  
  
Galen didn’t have to say anything then for Cal to know how he was feeling. That was the beauty of taking time to Connect. Cal could feel the weariness and the worry that Galen usually so effectively kept locked away, a vulnerability that was so powerful that it was hidden deepest within.  
  
“May it flow through us and connect us,” Galen continued. “May our energy be more powerful than our past because it is our essence, what we feel in this moment, that matters. Right?”  
  
“Yeah, that’s it,” Cal praised with a sigh. Galen’s words had been exactly right, _perfect_.  
  
“Do you understand my intention?” Galen asked.  
  
“Yes,” Cal agreed.  
  
“Are you present for my curiosity?”  
  
Cal tried not to flinch. He licked his lips as he tried to stay with the feeling of Connection. “I am.”  
  
“What haven’t you told me?”  
  
Cal’s throat clenched and he grit his teeth. He felt tears welling behind his closed eyelids as he had nowhere to hide. He faltered in his hold at Galen’s waist; the balance tipped. Tears trailed down his cheeks and he felt himself _weeping_.  
  
“It’s been _killing me_ ,” he admitted. He didn’t want to keep this secret and didn’t want the time to come when it became known. Cal was exhausted by carrying knowledge with the fear of what would happen if he were to share it.  
  
“I can feel how you need to unburden,” Galen remarked, a declaration but one kept gentle with the softened tone of his voice. “I feel the burden as if it were my own. I have no hope for that weight to be lifted if you do not bring it to the surface.”  
  
“I don’t think I can keep it from you any longer,” Cal confessed with another sob. “But I don’t want to bring you pain.”  
  
“When I was taken, I faced some bitter truths,” Galen told him as he spread his fingers wider across his back. “Nothing you could say would be as painful as that.”  
  
“I’m pregnant.”  
  
Cal heard the words almost as if someone else had said them, but had to recognize that it was his own voice. He heard the telltale stammer as it betrayed him. Cal had thought about those words so many times that they almost lost meaning. They’d echoed over and over in his head since he’d seen a little plus sign in a gas station bathroom far away from the compound.  
  
Cal had thought he was too old. He thought he’d lost his chance. Others his age already had _multiple_ children, _teenaged_ children. He didn’t think he still had the opportunity to have children. He would perform ceremonies for every new baby born but they would never be his own. He hadn’t know what to make of the unexpected turn of events, the new opportunity that was being presented to him. It had seemed too good to be true, so much so that he reflexively focused on the potential for pain.  
  
“I know you are still grieving,” Cal stated. He curled upwards and, though Galen said nothing, his touch continued to hold him. “I would never consider the possibility of replacing the child that you lost or the partner that you had and I know it _hurts you_ just to think of them, for me to do or say anything to bring them up.”  
  
Galen pressed their foreheads against each other and Cal could feel Galen’s sigh as his own. “I try to think of my daughter only in the moments when I’m strong because the pain of not having her with me has been so overwhelming I risk failing, even now,” he confessed. “But so much of my life has been wasted. I couldn’t bear to waste any more.”  
  
Cal could feel his face contort as a wave of emotion threatened to crash over him and take him down with it. There was a sob that caught in his throat as if ready to drown him.   
  
Galen took hold of Cal’s face between two broad palms and rubbed his thumbs against the creases of Cal’s cheeks where they scrunch up to keep his emotion contained. “Say you understand,” Galen said as he pressed a kiss to Cal’s forehead.  
  
The words came out a little mishmash and garbled, but Cal said it loud and clear enough for them both: “I understand.”  
  


* * *

  
“So,” Cal says with a tone that is instructive and serious, but not _too much_. “Holding family as our foundation isn’t without its challenges. For so many of us, our Damage can be _rooted_ in our family.”  
  
Pictures keep clicking by to punctuate his words as he crosses the stage. The pictures switch between child and adult over and over, Damage upon Damage, pain upon pain. A black and white image stretches itself across his belly and the shadow cast behind him exaggerates the _already_ exaggerated curve. It’s heavy, that’s for sure. It has only gotten heavier as days, weeks, and months have passed. He has only become more aware of the weight of it – literal and figurative – as time has gone on.  
  
“As we try to forge our new family together, how do we not simply repeat what we know of family and thereby continue to replicate our Damage? How do we not pass that Damage on? How do we break that cycle?”  
  
Cal hears some more hums, more contemplative this time, and sees matching furrowed brows. He looks again at Galen, who has heard and helped him to answer these questions many times. There is no need for Galen to react to something that’s not new. The gaze Cal gets in return isn’t a _reaction_ , but a fondly familiar sort of expression that Cal feels grateful to find is nothing new to him either.  
  
“If Damage and pain are in our legacy,” he continues, pulling his eyes away from his partner by reluctant force of will. “If they seem interwoven into our DNA, merged with the _essence_ of who we are, what can we possibly do about that? What can we possibly expect of _ourselves_?”  
  


* * *

  
Empty and almost-empty bottles littered every surface – the dining table, the coffee table, the counters – alongside discarded papers, unwashed dishes, and what seemed to amount largely to garbage. The walls were stained in odd shapes ringed with brown and the faux-tile above the stove was scorched black.  
  
He could smell the many cigarettes smoked within these walls and saw more smoke rising from a lit cigarette left abandoned on an ash tray. He held his breath in as he approached and snuffed the cigarette out with one hand. His exhale was a sigh once it felt ever so slightly safer to breathe. He rubbed a hand to his belly as his eyes scanned the room to figure out what in there _wa_ _sn’t_ _toxic_.  
  
His mother shuffled in from the other room. She looked as surprised to see him as he strangely felt to see her. He’d known she would be here – _where else would she be?_ – but seeing his mother in the flesh always made his fears that much more tangible. When she was only a memory, he could sometimes pretend she wasn’t all that _real_.  
  
“Hi, Mom,” he said and he felt how his breath stuttered and stammered already as it competed for space in his chest with a heart that seemed to jerk around as it pounded.  
  
“Well, well, look who it is,” his mom said by way of greeting. She recovered from her surprise more quickly than he did and shuffled her way passed him to slump back onto her recliner.  
  
The sound of alcohol pouring into a glass was one he _felt_ as much as he heard. He felt it like nostalgia and habit and _dread_ all at once. It was a memory buried in his mind from many repetitions done by his own hand. He knew what came next. He knew how easy it would be to lift the glass to his mouth and drink down the liquid faster than his tastebuds could rankle against the bitterness and bite.  
  
He distracted himself from the itch in his fingers for a glass to hold onto by instead starting to tidy some of the mess in that place. He gathered up every empty bottle, tossed out every unneeded coupon and flier, and even straightened the painting of a cat that hung on the wall.  
  
“How long are you going to keep doing that?” his mother had complained from her seat in her chair.  
  
Cal sighed and knew an argument would come no matter what he said or did. He’d learned long ago that there was no avoiding it. It was only ever a question of magnitude. “When’s the last time anyone picked up a broom in this place?”  
  
“When was the last time you were here?” she asked. “Ten years ago?”  
  
“Three, Mom.”  
  
“Certainly wasn’t any time soon,” she said with a scoff. She gestured towards his belly with her lit cigarette. “That ticking timebomb there is at least good for keeping track of the time.”  
  
Cal rubbed a hand across the swell of his belly and could at least partially agree. Though he’d never describe his belly or his baby with the same vitriol she would, he did find himself regularly in awe of how his body showed the difference between one day and another and between what used to be and what would be.  
  
“I was here for Dad’s service,” he said as his hand drifted from stroking his belly to rubbing his knuckles against the ache building in the ever-increasing arch of his back.  
  
“I always knew you’d come back,” his mom grumbled. Anything she said was a grumble at that point. Chain-smoking and her own venom made anything she said gravelly and caustic. “I have an extra room, you know.”  
  
“It’s a short visit,” he asserted.  
  
He had no intention to stay any longer than he needed to. He’d told Galen this was 10R business. Cal didn’t want him to see the mess he came from. Buried amongst the trash and debris around his mother’s apartment were the years of scathing remarks and harsh judgments Cal had done his best to bury in his mind until they could no longer see the light of day.  
  
“Doesn’t have to be,” his mother said, as lighthearted as she could manage. “Why don’t you have a little drink with me, huh? Spend some time with your mother now that you’re about to become one.”  
  
Cal grit his teeth and only unclenched his jaw enough to lick at his dry lips. “I don’t drink.”  
  
She laughed, _laughed_. She did it right in his face and with a wheeze at the end. “You drink,” she said as if she knew him _so well_. “You’re just not drinking _right now_.”  
  
“I _can’t_ drink,” he tried instead.  
  
The baby twisted and turned in his belly as if in agreement. What he believed to be little feet pushed out far enough to create a bump protruding slightly from the rest of the swell. He tapped his fingers against the protrusion and shifted from foot to foot with the hope that it might lull the growing, little life into taking a nap for a little while.  
  
“Come here. I want to see something. Just for a moment,” his mother said as she beckoned him with her hand.  
  
He hesitated skeptically, but when she put out her cigarette in her newly empty and cleaned ashtray and the smoke faded into the air, he gave in. He sat down heavily on the cushioned footrest. He sighed; it did feel good to get off his feet.  
  
His mom took his hands in hers and looked as deeply into his eyes as the tipsiness would allow. “He came back to me. You can too.”  
  
Cal sat frozen for a moment. He felt his hackles rising, alarm bells blaring in his head. How she always managed to catch him off-guard he would never know. He would expect her to be cruel and she would be caring. She would be caring just so the cruelty would hurt that much more later.  
  
“I have a _life_ in the Movement,” Cal insisted as he took a deep breath to steady himself. “I can’t just drop everything. We’re in the process of expanding. I was even on the news the other day.”  
  
“Oh, that’s right,” she said as she snatched away her hands and left his to fall between where his knees were spread wide to accommodate his belly. She used those open hands of hers to gesture sharply and accusingly. “You sure are _expanding_. Another poor sucker to be raised in a _cult_.”  
  
“It’s not a cult,” Cal argued, a well-practiced reflex. He’d had to say this many times to her and everyone else. “It’s a _Movement_ , where I earn a salary. A decent one. Enough to afford to take care of myself, the baby, and even a nice place for you.”  
  
His mom frowned and tipped her head as she picked up her latest mug filled with booze. “Alright,” she said offhandedly as if it were no big deal. “You want to show me a nice place, fine.”  
  
“Really?” he said, having expected more of a fight. On his drive over, he imagined all the insults she might throw at him so it would hurt less when she did. “That’s great, Mom.”  
  
“One condition,” she added. “Have a drink with me.”  
  
He should have known.  
  
As he looked at her, he couldn’t decide if he was more irritated with her or with himself for still being able to be irritated after all this time. “I can’t do that,” he asserted as he worked his jaw against some of its tension. “And it is _horrible_ that you would ask me to.”  
  
His mom scoffed. _“Fine._ I’m not going,” she said, seemingly unbothered by anything and everything in the way Cal wished he could be. “I’ll stay here.” _  
_  
“You want to die on the street?” he asked as he could feel his heart start to race and his baby start to kick harder with all of the excitement.  
  
“I want to die _here_ ,” she insisted. “In my _own home_.”  
  
That frantic feeling started to creep in – the one he usually got just before he did something stupid without thinking. It was the feeling that drove him to drink so that the edges might blur enough to not feel so _sharp_. With alcohol, he could fade into a time and space separate from the harsh, cutting reality he suffered day-to-day.  
  
“I—” he started and stammered. He pushed himself to his feet clumsily and had to brace his hand to the wall to keep from falling as his knees tried to buckle. “I have to go.”  
  
He stumbled out into the hallway and could hear his mother shouting something at him as he went. He couldn’t linger in the hallway and feel safe. She could still come and find him there. His keys jangled in his hand as he clicked the button to unlock his car. Lowering himself into the seat felt more and more difficult these days and he winced as he dropped down a little too suddenly.  
  
His hands fumbled just as much with his phone as they had with his keys. He clicked the wrong thing too many times for his liking before _finally_ he could bring to phone to his ear and listen for the ringing. He heard the phone pick up and before Galen could even _start_ to say a word of greeting, Cal announced, “I’m not on 10R business.”  
  
“Where are you?” Galen asked and Cal felt as comforted by his voice as he felt discomforted by having to declare his own lie.  
  
“I’m in Troy,” he admitted shakily. He leaned his forehead against the steering wheel and felt how he had to curve himself around his belly. ”I’m with Brenda – my mother,” he continued, adding the last part when he realized Galen had no ability or reason to know his mother’s name. Cal had never given him a reason to think she was even still alive.  
  
“Has something happened?”  
  
“She’s just a _wreck_ ,” he stammered out as he clenched his eyes closed and wrinkled his brow. He gripped one hand against his phone and the other around the steering wheel and held as tight as he possibly can. “I worked so hard on myself. And one day with Brenda and it’s _so close_ to all being out the window.”  
  
He could hear Galen hum and even though the phone distorted it slightly, he could still know from habit how the vibration felt when pressed against his hand or right near his ear. “How could that possibly be the case?” Galen asked encouragingly.  
  
“She wants me to drink and I’m an _alcoholic_ ,” Cal confessed. “I’m an alcoholic, which makes me _want_ to drink too.”  
  
“You’re much more than an alcoholic, Cal,” Galen soothed and Cal could understand how he might think that when only just learning that piece of information then. Meanwhile, Cal had to live with it for _years_.  
  
“My mother wants to die. I don’t drink and she wants to die,” Cal insisted and his hands shook despite how he clenched them into fists. “And I don’t know if I’m supposed to _let her_. I don’t know if I want to. I might.”  
  
“Your mother’s decisions are her own,” Galen told him. “You would care for her if she let you. We both know that’s the Truth.”  
  
“How can I not do everything I can to take care of her safety?” Cal argued and winced at how his voice nearly cracked with the frenzy of his nerves. “She’s my _mother_. She’s _family_.”  
  
“You do everything you can to take care of our child.”  
  
Cal winced and uncurled his hand from the wheel to instead hold the underside of his belly. He tried to focus on that and on keeping his hand gentle against the place where their child grew. “Sorry, _sorry_ ,” Cal stammered in shame and embarrassment. “I know. You shouldn’t have to remind me of that.”  
  
“This is just a moment,” Galen reminded him. “It will pass. You taught me that.”  
  
Cal’s lungs emptied in a heavy gust. He tried to focus on the light pouring in from the window and not the way it overheated him and turned the air stuffy inside the car. He tried to absorb as much of the sunlight as he could and hoped his baby could feel the Light too.  
  
“Thank you,” Cal sighed when his nerves were a little more under control.  
  
“I believe in you, Cal,” Galen replied. “Come home.”  
  


* * *

  
“The answer is the Truth,” Cal announces for all to hear. “And _love_.”  
  
His pictures switch back to smiling, happy ones provided by the community. Hawk, Summer, Sarah, Eddie, Gaby, Hank – generations of smiles shared together. He sees how Gaby folds her hands over her heart and how Eddie wraps his arm around Sarah’s shoulder, while Hawk and Summer look at each other with the kind of affection between siblings that’s a poorly kept secret.  
  
“Love will lead you into your own heart – into _your_ self – and you will love yourself, and you will _love_ others and you will realize just how much more there is to this existence,” Cal says as he gestures to his own heart, which thuds and beats with the knowledge of what words must come next.   
  
“My mother has never once told me that she loves me. Never once. She may go to her grave _never_ having told me she loves me,” he says, trying to keep his tone as even as he can even as his chest and his belly both give a hard _clench_. When the ache of his heart and ache of his womb have faded just enough that thinks he might be steady enough to speak, he lays a hand against the side of his belly and continues, “How do I create a new family knowing that? _Acceptance_ , that’s how. I _accept_ that I have no control over my mother or her love. And I let her go. And I surround myself with people who _do_ love me.”  
  
His eyes meet Galen’s easily and for a moment he forgets the crowd and speaks the next part as if a promise to the man who isn’t _officially_ his husband, but might as well be. “This child that I will bring into the world will be born _surrounded_ by the love of their parents and the love of this community. They will not have to know the damage of a broken family. They will know the love of parents who are healing themselves as this child is healed.”  
  
The sound of applause reminds him once again of the observers and spectators in the room and he smiles as he tries not to flush at being seen in such a way. His laugh is as much self-conscious as it is happy, but he feels soothed slightly by how Galen presses a kiss to the tips of his fingers and, with a flick of his wrist, sends this affection out towards him.  
  
Some of the community linger to chat and some of them give Cal praise for what he said. A few of those people comment on how lucky their child is to be arriving any day now. Cal accepts the comments and compliments with as much grace as he can. He might usually revel in a job well done – and maybe he will later – but his back, feet, and belly all _ache_ and he wants nothing more than to be at _home_.  
  
Galen excuses them politely after Cal has winced one too many times and Cal holds onto him by the elbow as they walk home. At this point in his pregnancy, his feet had disappeared long ago. He'd taken for granted how much easier it makes things when he can see where he’s placing his feet. He grips his hand tighter around his partner’s arm as a wave towards a community member ends sharply with another pain in his belly that he's been having off and on all day.   
  
_What are non-verbal expressions of power and dominance? Well, in the animal kingdom, they are about expanding, so you make yourself big.  
  
_Cal is glad in some ways to have the baby ready to be born. He’s enjoyed caring for them as they grew and marveling at how a new life is made. He has learned even more what it means for the Light to make miracles in nature. Something so simple and done by accident can be a miracle too. But even though he wishes he could cherish this form of magic a little longer and even though he’s not sure he will ever feel truly _ready_ , he’s not sure how much _bigger_ his body can tolerate getting.  
  
As they start to inflate the pool in their living room and fill it with water, Galen doesn’t seem worried that the baby is coming or upset that he hadn’t known sooner. Cal quiets the part of his mind that says _it’s because he’s done it before._ His partner simply does what is needed and offers his hands again to ease Cal into the pool. Cal hisses – not from the temperature of the water, but from another pain – as Galen calls to notify everyone who ought to know. Cal wishes it could just be him and his partner alone, but knows the safety of the baby will always have to win out over his own comfort. It is a sacrifice he will be making for the rest of his life.  
_  
You stretch out. You take up space. You’re basically opening up. It’s about opening up.  
  
_Cal labors for _hours_. His arms tremble as he holds them up in front of him and above his head as he kneels. As another pain comes, he tries to absorb as much light as he can from the sun as it rises outside his window. He tries to feel how shines down onto his face and hands and how it glimmers on the water’s surface to reflect against even more of his skin. His breath shutters and stammers as he breathes out and he’s panting as he breathes in again.  
  
He flinches with a touch to his arm, which is already so heavy and difficult to keep from curling around his belly with the wish that it would ease the pain. Nothing will ease the pain but experiencing it, pushing through it, and getting to the other side.  
  
“Let’s move you into a more comfortable position,” Sarah says softly off to his left. He doesn’t see her with his eyes closed but he knows the concerned expression that’s likely on her face. “We need to channel whatever energy we have right now.”  
  
Cal shakes his head as another pain comes. He has soothed his pain through his connection with the Light for many years. Holding his hands up just like this and pushing them downward has helped him to ease many emotions that have threatened to boil over.  
  
“Remember the pain is not bigger than you,” Galen murmurs by his other ear. “It _is_ you.”  
  
Cal breathes out another harsh, stilted breath as he says, “I take this pain and _transform it_.”  
  
He envisions this pain transforming. He envisions all the Damage and the pain burning red hot, ready to be melded and molded like glass into a fragile work of art. This image comforts him through the many punishing squeezes of his womb and helps him to persevere when he would really rather give up and have it all be _over_ already.  
  
When holding up his arms and even his neck seems to be too much, he does finally allow Sarah and Galen to guide him with gentle hands to lie back in water that has been made pleasantly lukewarm again. It neither enflames his flushed skin nor chills his bones. Galen positions himself behind him on the other side of the pool’s inflated plastic walls and rubs at his shoulders and neck to ease what tension he can.  
  
Cal lolls his head to the side to allow his partner access to a particularly achy part of his neck and whispers with quiet awe, “We’re having a baby.”  
  
“Yes, Cal,” Galen says and Cal can once again hear tears catching in his partner’s throat. The next words come out raspier and with the rumble of deeply felt emotion: “Our family.”  
  
Cal reaches a hand up to still one of Galen’s and tips his head back to look at him as he says, “Take your pain and transform it.”  
  
“I follow your example,” Galen promises as he kisses Cal’s forehead.  
_  
So they do this both when they have power, sort of chronically, and also when they’re feeling powerful in the moment.  
  
_Cal pushes and _pushes_ as soon as he’s allowed to. He puts his _everything_ into getting this baby out into the world. The pain is like nothing he’s ever felt before. Cal would always have considered himself a hard worker, but this made everything else pale in comparison. He pushes for as long as he’s told and gasps for air whenever he’s allowed. He clenches his teeth through the burning, stinging pain of his baby crowning and stays patient no matter how much he doesn’t want to.  
  
When at last, with one final push, he feels his baby leave his body and enter the world as their own brand new person, Cal feels relief, quickly followed by dread.  
  
“I don’t hear the baby,” he whispers with a voice too raw and strained to speak any louder.  
  
“Cal,” Sarah says as she rubs the baby’s little chest and looks between the newborn and the brand new father. “Stay calm.”  
  
_“No,”_ Cal insists with a newfound strength summoned from he’s not even sure where. “Give my baby to me.”  
_  
_ He can see that Sarah is reluctant, but does as she’s told. Cal has no time to bask in amazement at the tiny, messy, little thing. His thoughts are only on the preciousness of this new life and that Galen _cannot_ lose a child again. He holds the baby against his skin and offers his child the Light, blood, and breath left in his body.  
  
There is another pause of ominous silence.  
  
There is a cry that pierces the air.  
  
Everyone in the room – aside from the baby – gasps and laughs in relief and joy. Cal holds his child carefully and tightly as he feels tears fall down his face.  
  
“Hello, precious one,” he says as he can finally look at his baby with eyes unclouded by dread, grief, or panic.   
_  
_ He knows there are words to say next. He knows what they are. He’s said it with every ceremony to induct every new soul under his watch. But in this moment, he can’t think of them. His thoughts are not of his role in the Movement, being 10R, or any other baby he’s ever welcomed to this world. For this moment, his heart and mind only have space for his partner and the baby they made together.  
  
“Welcome, little one, to our world,” Sarah says for him. “You are whole and you are broken, just like the rest of us. We give thanks for your wholeness. And we work to heal your brokenness so that one day we will be all that you need us to be.”  
  
“Thank you,” Cal sighs when she finishes.  
  
“What are you naming this little wonder?” Sarah asks him.  
  
“Star,” Cal says as he looks again at Galen. It had been a hard decision to come up with a name that would fit their little creation. He knows that their choice surfaces some of Galen’s pain, but also heals it.  
  
“Look at you,” Galen says as he touches the side of the baby’s face. He strokes his thumb across the baby’s soft, brand new cheek and across the shape of Star’s little ear. Galen leans over to press a kiss to the baby’s forehead and promises, “Whatever I do, I do it to protect you.”  
_  
_ Cal reaches up a hand to cradle the back of Galen’s head and as Star starts to cry for food or attention, Cal and Galen cry too, but from relief and from _joy_.  
_  
This one is especially interesting because it really shows us how universal and old these expressions of power are._

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this on a mission, but I had a lot of fun too. I hope you liked it!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who filled out the polls and helped me to make up my mind!


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